The Golden Harbor
The ink on my ledger was still wet, a dark smear against the parchment, when the first feather landed on my desk. It was not a common thing. We are creatures of stone and iron in this valley, bound by the ancient laws of the Guild of Scribes, yet the air above our windows was thick with the silence of a held breath. I looked up. My wife, Elara, stood in the doorway, her hands trembling as she...
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